


Looting is a Fine Tradition

by notbug (KageKashu)



Series: The Dragonborn Comes (Shouting as only an Uchiha can) [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragonborn Madara, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Slash, because the world needed that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/notbug
Summary: Madara doesn't hate Skyrim. Even if on his first day here, he was nearly executedandnearly eaten by a dragon.





	Looting is a Fine Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> So. My brain is putting most of my works on hiatus, so I figured I'd polish off something that was nearly done anyway as a gift and apology. There's a lot of weird background stuff for this one - headcanons galore! But... Not sure if I'll ever get to explore it fully.

After the initial introduction, Madara found that Skyrim wasn’t so bad. Sure, the Imperial presence was a bit much, the Thalmor were even more infuriating than usual, the land was cold and inhospitable, not to mention that he nearly suffered execution and being eaten by a dragon on his very first day in the country. It was still better than home. 

Then there was the elf. What kind of elf Tobirama was, Madara hadn’t yet ascertained. He lacked the golden hue of the Altmer, and the dark skin of the Dunmer. Logically, that left only the Bosmer, but... 

He fell in with the elf after Helgen, and sometimes, it felt a little like babysitting. The damned elf seemed to get into _everything_. Sometimes, it was entertaining. Other times, it led them into an abandoned mine full of bandits. And for all Tobirama could be insanely _quiet_ , he wasn’t much for sneaking. 

He had to grab him and pull him down when a bandit swung a lantern in their direction, peering into the darkness with a pensive face. The man - or mer, but Madara couldn’t tell through the dirt, and it wasn’t like he could see their ears from here - turned away, muttering about hearing things. 

Madara let out a careful breath, glaring at his companion. He wasn’t at his best right now - the trip over the mountains, then the whole ordeal at Helgen had taken a lot out of him. In other words, he was _not_ up to fighting an entire troupe of bandits. Maybe in a week, if he has ample meals and a decent place to rest. 

“Doesn’t the Jarl want them dead?” Tobirama asked - and gods, but that voice did things to Madara, especially when Tobirama modulated his voice like that. 

“Listen,” Madara hissed. “The Jarl wants _the leader’s head_. The rest don’t matter.” It was just luck that the mine Tobirama decided he wanted to explore happened to have the bandit that the Jarl’s bounty was on. 

“There’s no reason not to kill all of them.” 

And Madara cursed - quietly - because the damned elf was right. 

“And then we can pick over their loot at our leisure. The one near the entrance had a book.” 

That was another good point. 

Besides, Madara was just as interested in the Nord books as Tobirama. For such a close-minded and _bigoted_ group, Nords sure seemed to enjoy collecting books, some of which had useful information, and tips that have already helped Madara refine his technique in several areas. Maybe, if they were really lucky, there would be a spellbook or two laying around. 

“That muffling spell,” Madara said, regretful that Tobirama didn’t know any invisibility spells. He knew that they were a thing, because some of the more scholarly members of his clan used them. 

The elf rolled his eyes, but followed the instruction with no further complaint. Muffle was one of the few spells he had seen Tobirama use that didn’t tend to draw enemy ears when it settled into place. It _felt_ weird, the pressure of his feet on the ground, loose rocks slipping noiselessly beneath him. Madara was rather fond of the spell, regardless, though he hadn’t managed to talk Tobirama into teaching it to him. 

Shaking his head to regain his focus, Madara notched an arrow, and waited for the bandit that was moving around down there to stand in a spot where his body wouldn’t fall and alarm the rest of the troupe. 

Tobirama crouched, making an impatient sound. 

“If you want to make this go faster, you could get your own bow,” Madara murmured. He always thought elves were supposed to be patient, what with their long lives. He didn’t give much thought to the idea that they were once immortal. Immortality, as a concept, wasn’t something he believed in. Even the greatest of mountains withered. But he had heard that Queen Boenzoa, or whatever her name was, had lived a thousand years. To him, that was as good as immortal. 

Eventually, the bandit leaned against a wall. Staring right in their direction. But that wouldn’t matter if the arrow flew true. Madara held his breath, took aim, and loosed. 

The bandit didn’t fall, pinned to the wall by the arrow through his throat, and Madara hummed appreciatively - no longer looking at the man, still alive, though not for much longer, and unable to scream. This new bow was much stronger than the last one. The draw made his shoulder ache, but he would grow used to it. 

When he turned, Tobirama’s head was cocked, and he was staring at the bandit with a ponderous expression. Whatever he was thinking, however, he didn’t bother to share. 

* * *

For once, the loot was good. There was not one, not two, but _three_ spellbooks that he and Tobirama argued over - Madara felt like he had a good case, given that he did most of the work, but Tobirama had that _stare_ , that made him feel like he was kicking small animals. 

They also found a weighty orichalcum sword which replaced the steel sword that Tobirama had been using, and numerous gems and ingots of various values. Tobirama seemed to have little interest in the ingots, but the gems and scattered septims held his attention for a time, once he sheathed the sword. 

Madara was busy reading the single spell book he managed to wrangle from Tobirama’s greedy fucking hands - Bound Bow, which sounded extremely useful, and potentially better than carrying a bow all the time. No need to replace arrows, either, if he was reading this right... The other two spells didn’t sound nearly as useful, given that Madara didn’t see the point in conjuring atronachs, and he already knew a few fire spells. 

He glanced up just in time to see the bandit leader - which they had _missed_ , getting distracted by all the loot - readying his sword. Right behind Tobirama, whose eyes were glued to one of the spellbooks. He didn’t have time to draw his own blade. He barely had time to think. 

“ **Fus!** ” 

Tobirama’s head jerked up, and his glittering red eyes landed on Madara for a moment before he looked over his shoulder. When he saw the bandit, struggling to get back up, he made an appreciative sound. “Your aim is improving,” he said, then thoughtlessly cast an ice spell which slowed the bandit down further. 

Madara rolled his eyes, completely done with this, notched an arrow and let it fly. The man - or mer? - went down with a gurgle. “And I could have gotten you, too! Geez. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings!” 

A soft sound that might have been amusement, and Tobirama said, “I have you for that.” 


End file.
